"And was it," I asked myself, "was it essential to exchange buffets
with a 'Camberwell Chicken,' to shoot and be shot at, to spur sweating
and unwilling horses over dangerous fences--were such things truly
necessary to prove one's manhood? Assuredly not! And yet--'Ladylike!'"
Moved by a sudden impulse I turned from the lattice to the elegant
luxuriousness of my bedchamber, its soft carpets, rich hangings and
exquisite harmonies of colour; and coming before the cheval mirror I
stood to view and examine myself as I had never done hitherto,
surveying my reflection not with the accustomed eyes of Peregrine
Vereker, but rather with the coldly appraising eyes of a stranger, and
beheld this:
A youthful, slender person of no great stature, clothed in garments
elegantly unostentatious.
His face grave and of a saturnine cast--but the features fairly
regular.
His complexion sallow--but clear and without blemish.
His hair rather too long--but dark and crisp-curled.
His brow a little too prominent--but high and broad.
His eyes dark and soft--but well-opened and direct.
His nose a little too short to please me--but otherwise well-shaped.
His mouth too tender in its curves--but the lips close and firm.
His chin too smoothly rounded, at a glance--but when set, looks
determined enough.
His whole aspect not altogether unpleasing, though I yearned mightily
to see him a few inches taller.
Thus then I took dispassionate regard to, and here as dispassionately
set down, my outer being; as to my inner, that shall appear, I hope,
as this history progresses.
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